The Romanov Conspiracy (65 page)

I need a clear head, not a mind fogged by narcotic.

His hands shook. Reason told him to toss the bottle into the river but he couldn’t.

The evening light was fading but the sky was still pale. He tried to judge the time. He guessed it was somewhere close to ten.

He recalled Yakov’s words. The family’s fate is sealed. Once midnight passes, they’ll all be dead. No one can save them.

Was Yakov telling the truth? For some reason, he didn’t doubt him.

His heart began to race, anxiety overtaking him. He hadn’t much time but he knew he had to be careful not to fall into a trap.

And he felt certain it
was
a trap.

A couple of scrawny pigeons landed nearby, scavenging for food.

The city appeared deserted already, not a soldier in sight. It was well past curfew but Sorg hadn’t seen any roadblocks or checkpoints. Only droves of worried-looking peasant families pushing handcarts loaded with their belongings, heading in the direction of the city’s main railway station. He heard the thump of artillery fire in the distance.

In his pocket, he fingered Yakov’s envelope. He felt tempted to tear it open and see what was inside. It was all so baffling.

He looked around him yet again. He still saw no one observe him.

What if Yakov told the truth and this wasn’t a trap? His mind refused to contemplate that. It made no sense.

He hurried on, past boarded-up huckster shops, and entered a maze of foul-smelling alleyways strewn with abandoned garbage.

He began to relax. For the first time he questioned if he really was being followed. But almost immediately his anxiety returned.

He heard shallow footsteps behind him.

He looked over his shoulder.

No one.

It’s only fear
, he told himself.

But still he fretted.

Please, God, don’t let her be harmed
.

His thoughts raced, panic driving him deeper into the backstreets, determined to reach his destination.

I have to save Anastasia
.

As he rounded the next corner, rough hands reached out of the shadows and grabbed him.

Then something smelling and feeling of coarse sackcloth was pulled over his head and his vision plunged into darkness.

101

The room at the back of the mortuary was windowless.

A single lightbulb dazzled the lime-washed walls and when the sackcloth was ripped from Sorg’s head he blinked. The room was bare except for a pine table and chairs. A smell of embalming fluid filled his nostrils.

He recognized Markov, but the two other men and the woman present were strangers. A well-built, military-looking fellow stepped forward. He removed a ring from his finger, indicated the ancient symbol inscribed inside the band, and said in a North American accent, “Recognize this?”

Sorg felt a swell of relief.

“The name’s Boyle. Forgive the dramatics, but we couldn’t be certain if you were being followed. Or if you’d talked.”

“I told them nothing. Not a word.”

Boyle slipped back on the ring. “Knowing the Reds’ interrogation methods, I find that hard to believe.”

“I swear. All I know is when I wouldn’t talk, Yakov released me.”

Boyle nodded. “With the intention of following you, apparently. But he must have made a bad job of it; we got to you first. Sit.”

Sorg sat.

Boyle said angrily, “So you’re Sorg. If you weren’t in such a poor state, I’d horsewhip you to within an inch of your life. How the heck did you get yourself caught?”

“I made a stupid mistake,” Sorg answered and then explained.

Boyle was grim-faced. “And now the Reds are guarding every tunnel entrance. Why the dickens were you so desperate to overhear Kazan’s conversation?”

“Wouldn’t
you
have wanted to?”

Boyle’s jaw tightened hard as a knot, and he stood, scraping back his chair. “I wouldn’t have ignored Markov’s warning. The wall wasn’t to be breached until we were ready to use it. Now all our plans are ruined.”

Sorg said desperately, “Yakov claimed the family’s to be executed soon after midnight.”

Markov offered, “It’s definite, so. That’s why the truck was ordered.”

Boyle flicked open his pocket watch. “It’s after ten now.”

Sorg clutched his arm. “We
have
to do something.”

Boyle looked under pressure. He began to pace the room like a wild animal and asked Markov, “Is your telephone working?”

“If the local exchange workers have been drinking, probably not.”

“Then I’ll need a volunteer wearing one of the Red Army uniforms to run over to the central garage as fast as their legs can carry them. I’m betting the
komendant
will want the truck in place before he carries out the executions. If we can divert it elsewhere, that may delay things and give me time to think.”

He said to Markov, “Can you lay your hands on any explosive material?”

“I’m an undertaker, not a bomb maker. Why?”

“We may need to create a diversion. This is a mining town. Dynamite can’t be in short supply.”

Markov shrugged. “If I had time perhaps, but we’re cutting it a bit close.”

“Do your best.”

Sorg massaged his jaw and said to Boyle, “One other thing. Kazan.”

“What about him?”

“He and I have unfinished business.”

“Forget it. Focus on what’s important. What else can you tell us?”

“Who’s Andrev?”

Andrev frowned. “Me, why?”

“Yakov told me to pass you on a message. And to give you this.”

Sorg pulled out the envelope. “He said there’s a map and note with directions how to get to an abandoned grain warehouse a half mile
north of the Ipatiev House. Yakov wants you to meet him there at eleven tonight. He said Nina’s life may depend on it.”

Stone-faced, Andrev took the envelope.

“He wants you to come alone.”

Lydia stepped into the mortuary annex.

Andrev was standing over a table, checking his Nagant pistol, before he emptied a boxful of cartridges into his pockets.

She said, “Do you really think it’s safe to go alone?”

“Probably not. That’s why I’m taking some insurance.”

As he slipped the revolver into his pocket, she put a hand on his arm. “I have a bad feeling about this, Uri. I really do.”

“How else do I find out what’s happened to Nina and Sergey? How else do I know if I can still save them?”

“What do you think Yakov wants?”

“To stop us, you can be sure that hasn’t changed. Whatever else he’s up to.”

“What will you do? How will you handle it?”

“Honestly? I really don’t know. I can only see how the cards fall.”

“Let me go with you, please?”

He pulled on his jacket. “No, it’s best you go back to the convent with the sister. Please, Lydia.”

She met his stare, then on impulse she kissed him, her arms going around his neck. They embraced until at last he said, “I must go.”

Yakov’s envelope lay on the table unopened and he picked it up.

As he moved to the door, he turned up his jacket collar and looked back at her, a curious expression on his face. “Can I tell you something? I think you’re right: our hearts are big enough to love more than one person in a life. I just wish we’d met another time, another place.”

Her expression was very pale, and there was a heartrending look in her eyes. She touched her fingers to his lips, concern in her voice. “Be careful. Are you certain you can find the warehouse?”

Andrev tore open the envelope. “I’ve got Yakov’s map.”

From inside, he plucked two pieces of folded paper and opened
them. Lydia saw that one was a rough map. The other was a handwritten letter.

Andrev read the letter.

As he did so his face drained of color, and he fell very still, his mouth open with a look of mute horror.

She saw his eyes become wet and he looked ready to crumple. “What … what’s the matter?”

“It’s Sergey.” In a daze, Andrev handed her the letter.

102

IPATIEV HOUSE

Yakov drove the Fiat truck up to the barrier.

The guards waved him through and he marched up the steps and into Yurovsky’s office. The
komendant
looked exhausted as he jumped to his feet, his eyes puffy.

“Commissar. I expected you sooner. You apprehended the enemy agents?”

A brooding Yakov helped himself to a samovar bubbling in a corner, heaping three spoonfuls of sugar into his glass of tea. “No. They evaded capture again. That’s what delayed me.”

“They won’t cause us trouble, will they?”

Yakov said, tight-lipped, “Not if I can help it. Don’t worry, we’ll find them.”

“The telegraph line to Moscow is still down. I assume you still have authority to confirm the execution order?”

“That’s why I’m here. Is everything ready?”

“The basement room has been emptied in preparation. I have the truck ordered from the military garage for midnight, along with rolls of canvas to wrap the bodies. We’ll keep the engine running so it’ll help drown out the shooting.”

Yakov said, “Don’t begin until you have the truck in place. I don’t want things getting messy. What about weapons?”

“We’ll use handguns. They’re easier to conceal from the family until the last moment.”

“Tell me what you intend.”

When the
komendant
explained, Yakov said, “You look uncertain.”

The
komendant
shrugged. “It’s the children. I sensed some of my
men would have difficulty killing them. So I’ve changed several of the guards. After the executions are carried out, we’ll take the corpses to the woods for disposal. I have stores of sulfuric acid and gasoline put by in case they’re needed.”

“What about you? Are you up to it, Yurovsky?”

The
komendant
smiled crookedly, as if he relished his task. “Have no doubt about that.”

“You’ll feel different afterward, I promise you that, so try not to look too happy about it. It’ll be a bloody business, so make sure everyone clearly understands their orders.”

“I was once a photographer. I intend arranging our victims in a particular order before we enter the room for the execution. It’ll make things easier.”

“Very well. Fetch the men you’ve chosen.”

The
komendant
left and reappeared, ten of his troops trailing in, some in uniform, others wearing civilian clothes with red armbands. Yakov closed the door. “I’ve had all the weapons we need gathered from the other guards.”

One of the men carried a wooden box containing handguns and ammunition, which he placed on the table. He began removing the firearms one by one. Nagants, a couple of Mausers, a pair of Colts, a Smith & Wesson. Assorted spare clips and boxes of ammunition.

Yakov held up one of the Colts. “You all know what’s expected. If any one of you has
any
hesitation about using these weapons on women and children, step forward now. There’s no shame. I won’t criticize you.”

The men shuffled, but nobody moved out of line.

Yakov said, “Questions?”

A thin, young man with narrow eyes and a wispy mustache said, “We shoot them
all together
?”